


Blessed Seclusion from a Jarring World

by Courtney621



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtney621/pseuds/Courtney621
Summary: Edward had been Elinor's greatest and most unexpected comfort since her father's death.
Relationships: Elinor Dashwood/Edward Ferrars
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Blessed Seclusion from a Jarring World

_"Who loves a garden, loves a greenhouse too._

_Unconscious of a less propitious clime_

_There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug,_

_While the winds whistle and the snows descend."_

Elinor stifled a laugh, half amusement and half exasperation, at the look of melodramatic horror on Marianne’s face as Edward read. 

She knew what her sister was thinking. She knew that Marianne was displeased by all but the most passionate of readings, and Edward's calm and sedate style would be considered a grave offense indeed. 

Marianne would think that Edward lacked feeling and animation; Edward was making a mockery of Cowper; Edward was unworthy of reading aloud to them ever again.

_"So manifold, all pleasing in their kind,_

_All healthful, are the employs of rural life,_

_Reiterated as the wheel of time_

_Runs round, still ending, and beginning still."_

Elinor shot a warning look at her sister, whose distress, now bordering on performative, was sure to be noticed.

It was agony, waiting for Edward to be done; not because Elinor felt as Marianne did, but because she wanted to spare him from the worst of her sister's inconsideration.

At last it was over, and Marianne leapt up to take her own turn.

"I do not think your sister approves of my execution," Edward whispered, taking the seat next to Elinor.

Elinor tried to laugh it away. "Marianne does not approve of my reading either. Pray, do not take it to heart."

He smiled at her and turned to listen politely to Marianne.

Elinor watched him from the corner of her eye, noting every subtle shift in his expression, wishing she could sketch him now and ashamed of herself for wishing any such thing.

Edward had been her greatest and most unexpected comfort since her father's death. As much as Elinor loved her mother and sisters, their overwrought form of grief did nothing to assuage her own.

She could speak rationally with Edward, acknowledging her feelings softly and without hysterics; he, too, had lost a father, and he, too, felt deeply, but without excessive sensibility.

There were other, less sorrowful topics of conversation as well, and hours spent engaged in them. He calmed her, just by his manner of speaking, placid and unhurried and serene. She was not so biased as to think he spoke _well_ \- he was often hesitant, often faltered - but there was a gentleness in his tone that soothed her.

It was an inexpressible relief, their friendship, and whatever it was growing into. 

Elinor was reluctant to call it anything _but_ friendship, but she could not deny that it had been shifting lately. It did not matter; she kept that door firmly shut. She did not know what his thoughts and intentions were, and so did not want to look too closely at her own.

Edward felt her gaze and smiled at her again. Elinor, her face burning, returned it and quickly looked away.

"Marianne reads well," he said later.

"She reads _dramatically_ , to be sure."

"I am sorry that I offended her with my performance," he said with mock solemnity.

"It is all offense on Cowper's behalf. I will find you something less sacred to read next time."

"I am afraid that you will be the only one interested in listening."

She blushed again and changed the subject.

There were so many sentiments, so many feelings that Elinor could not allow herself to acknowledge, that she sunk under the relative indifference of respect and esteem. But at least she could say, if only to herself, that she loved the sound of Edward's voice.


End file.
